


live through this

by rolameny



Series: Destiny fics [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolameny/pseuds/rolameny
Summary: Out of Light, out of ammo, out of contact, in a cave on Mars that shouldn’t be there.





	live through this

**Author's Note:**

> A twitterfic for Tanya that got too long for its original format, for the prompt "Cayde/Andal, greed."

“Come on, I can take more.”

“No.” Andal’s voice is tense. Out of Light, out of ammo, out of contact, in a cave on Mars that shouldn’t be there.

“Ain’t gonna get out otherwise.”

“Ain’t gonna get out at all if I have to carry you. Shut it.”

Cayde’s hooked his own generator up to their one Omolon pistol. Every shot they take tires him more. If he goes down here he’s not getting back up.

At least, not as himself.

“C—”

“ _Shut up_!” Andal roars, sick to his stomach. Thrall skitter in the hall ahead. “That’s an order!”

— 

Cayde leans on him, stumbling like he’s drunk on the rising ground. He’s turned off all his backlights but his eyes to save power, and now they walk by that faint blue glow alone. 

He mumbles into Andal’s shoulder. 

“No,” says Andal, throat dry. He doesn’t need to know what Cayde said to know what he was offering. Drain his generator, take the gun, run for it. Andal’s not going to do it. Not after— 

He’s not going to do it. And that's that. 

They limp through the dark. Something in Cayde's torso beeps, warning of some imminent mechanical failure. Andal uses his knife more than the gun, terrified of running out of charge. 

An acolyte gets him in the kneecap. Andal gets it in the throat. Has to use the gun on the next one. Cayde shudders against him. It might just be panic that makes Andal see his eyes go duller. But it might not be. 

Too long below, in the dark. 

They’ve got to be near the surface, if only they could find a way out of these endless caves. Andal swears or prays, he doesn’t know which any more, and aims at the ceiling a handful of yards in front of them. 

Cayde’s groan is covered by the sounds of falling rock, sand pouring in over it in rushing waves. 

And above them, finally: light. 


End file.
